Joys of Suburban Life

Here is Her Majesty Tricky Wu Misu lounging decadently in her luxury high-rise condo.  “Bring me foie gras and caviar”, says she, “and a cat-tini, stirred not shaken!”  Her new arch-nemesis, a fluffy black cat from next door, has learned the terror of even approaching Her Awfulness Who Presides Over The Turf.  It sounds like bloody murder.

Our driveway has become roofing materials central, as our leaky ancient roof is about to be replaced–at no cost to us!  Ah, the joys of leasing.  Meanwhile, it seems some furniture we’re expecting to be shipped has wandered off into the FedEx ether, or been lost on a NJ garbage barge, or something.  Oh, the joys of living out of boxes.

Also, mowing a postage stamp lawn is so much easier and less waste of time!  The “garden”, such as it is, is so tiny, I have to figure out what I can squeeze into it.  It’s a different kind of challenge.  It’s the Suburbs.



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